| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1149. Fate |
| | | By Louis James Block |
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| THREE steps and I reach the door, | |
| But a whole month rolls between | |
| Since last I stood before | |
| My shut room’s simple scene. | |
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| I pause at the door and shrink, | 5 |
| My hand is at point to turn, | |
| But I stand and dimly think | |
| Of all I long for and yearn. | |
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| My life leaps up to me there, | |
| The past with its every deed, | 10 |
| And I tremble and hardly dare | |
| The open mystery to read. | |
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| A year and a day and awhile, | |
| Ay me! there is none escape; | |
| Each thought, each dream, each smile | 15 |
| Will front me in questioning shape. | |
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| I open and see what no eyes | |
| Save mine have the power to see: | |
| Dead scenes and dead griefs arise, | |
| Dead follies make mouths at me. | 20 |
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| Yea, so: through the dark I peer, | |
| And shudder away from the door; | |
| Voices once heard I hear, | |
| Know faces seen long before. | |
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